There's a First Time for Everything
by Sakura-chan4
Summary: My idea of how Bulma and Vegeta got together. *Reposted due to ratings change* Vegeta begins to question whether it really is completely about lust.
1. The First Time

WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual activity. If you, OR YOUR PARENTS (if you are under age 17) will be offended by reading this, then **please** go read something else. Underage readers have done enough damage to this web site as it is. If you do not like reading stories with sexual content, this is your warning to leave. If, at the end of this story, you are unhappy with the amount/type/style/etc. of sexual content, it is your own fault. You have been warned.

A/N: This is my very first fanfic. This is also my very first lemon. Please let me know what you think of it! 

DragonballZ is not mine. 

*There's a First Time for Everything…* 

"Don't touch that!" she yelled. "What do you think you're doing? You're going to break it!"  
Vegeta startled at the sudden shout behind him. "What is this stupid thing, anyway?" he asked, glaring at her.  
"Not that it's any of your business, snoop, but I'm modifying the dragon radar. Put it down before you mess it up!"  
"Oh, something useful. I thought you were just playing with your toys to take your mind off of that fool, Yamcha." He sneered. "He's a pathetic weakling. I don't know why you waste your time crying over him." Vegeta crossed his arms over his chest as he almost eagerly awaited her response.  
Bulma pulled her lips back off her clenched teeth in a snarl. "Shut up! That's none of your business!"  
"You make it everyone's business, the way you go around shouting about how he's mistreated you."   
"Well, he has! He hasn't called me in…" she broke off as he interrupted her.  
Vegeta rolled his eyes in disgust, "I know, I know. He hasn't called you all week. I think even the worms in the garden know all the details of your pathetic 'relationship' with that worthless lump."  
"Oh, you think so? There's plenty of things you don't know, buster!" she glanced over at her father to make sure he couldn't hear her over the noise of his own soldering. She lowered her voice, "Unless you're a peeping pervert."   
"Peeping pervert?" Vegeta raised one eyebrow.   
"Yamcha may be a jerk, but there are **some** things he knows how to do right." She smirked suggestively. "Or do you know all about that, too?"  
A faint blush crossed Vegeta's cheeks as he comprehended what she was implying. "I have done nothing like what you're suggesting!"  
"Which part? The peeping, or the woman-pleasing?" she asked with a vicious grin. "Oh, never mind. I think I can answer that question myself."   
The lab suddenly became much quieter as Bulma's father finished his soldering and shut the tool off.  
Not wanting to continue the conversation in front of her father, Vegeta barely squelched the temptation to crush the thing in his hand to bits, on the grounds that doing so was unnecessary childishness she's so ANNOYING!, and put it back on the table. After all, he didn't want her to think her final insult had stung. With a final scowl directed at his assailant, he turned and stalked out of the workroom.   
She looked down at the part he had replaced on the table. What was he doing?! Bulma thought. What a nosy creep. He could have ruined this thing, and I'd have had to start over! She muttered indignantly to herself as she investigated the pieces of her project. Honestly, a girl can't even be gone for the amount of time it takes to eat a snack, and be sure that her projects will be the way she left them. She was enormously relieved to find that while Vegeta had been handling the parts, all he'd done was put them back on the table in slightly different places than she'd left them. "Well," she said to her father, "believe it or not that big, clumsy oaf didn't break any of it."  
"Hmm," replied her father.   


***

"Damn her." Muttered Vegeta as he returned to his training. "Damn her and her shouting. Always going on about something. Something's always making her mad. If it isn't that fool Yamcha, it's that the clothes she wanted to wear aren't clean. Or that the weather is too cold. Or she ran out of hair gel. Damn her." He had noticed that he felt almost relieved when she would leave the house for some reason. How could such a weak, puny human generate such a presence? How sad is it that a saiyan prince avoids a little girl! he mocked himself. She was such a puzzle. At one time she had feared him; once, his name struck terror into her heart. But not anymore. No. Now she felt free to yell at him just like she yelled at everyone else. It never seemed to cross her mind that he could still kill her with as much effort as she killed gnats.   
Vegeta had had very little contact with females once he passed into adolescence, and the ones he had met since then had all been terrified of him, terrified of what he could do. Vegeta was accustomed to being feared, but that was not the treatment he was receiving in this house! Bulma's father, while he didn't exactly fear this most unusual houseguest, seemed to at least have a healthy respect for him. Bulma's mother treated him with the same vague kindness she showed everyone else, including animals. Vegeta didn't know if anyone had told her about his past, and all the people he'd killed. Whether Mrs. Briefs knew or not, she certainly didn't fear him. She has the sense of a chicken. She doesn't even fear the androids. No, the fact that she does not fear me signifies nothing. Besides, she is old..   
But Bulma was different. She knew plenty of nasty things about him, but didn't seem to care. To be around a girl who didn't treat him with the utmost deference was unnerving. Sometimes, he didn't know how to act. Sometimes all he could think to do was scowl. And other times, like earlier, it was almost fun, to argue and shout at someone who didn't promptly turn to jelly. And she was definitely not old.  
If only she didn't smell so…interesting. Both the girl and her mother had a pleasant smell, a combination of the smells of their soaps and perfumes and such. But where Mrs. Briefs's smell was merely pleasant, Bulma's had something else in it. The true reason why he had paused to investigate the dragon radar she was working on was that it smelled faintly of her. By holding the radar Vegeta could smell Bulma without her actually being present, and it gave him the opportunity to see if he could pin down just what it was that made her smell so…interesting. He hoped that if he could figure it out, that maybe it wouldn't interest him so much.  
He gave himself a mental shake. Again! She's distracting me again! It seemed that whenever he had a confrontation of some kind with Bulma, it would take some time before he could get her out of his head. He glanced at the clock and realized he'd spent twenty minutes mechanically going through exercises while his mind focused on her. "That's no way to train. I have to pay attention."

***

"Ooooh!! I hate Yamcha!" Bulma shouted to her mother later that afternoon. "He's such a jerk! He hasn't called me all week, and I haven't seen him in two months!"  
"Oh, Bulma-honey, I'm sure he's just been so busy," her mother began.  
"Too busy to come see me? Just once?! Some boyfriend he is." Bulma crossed her arms over her chest and put on a pouty face.   
"Would you like some nice watermelon, honey? I got it fresh just this morning." Bulma's perpetually calm and unflappable mother held out the plate of watermelon slices to her daughter.  
"No! I don't want any food. I'm going out. I need some new parts for the radar." Bulma sulked.   
"Ok, dear. Have a good time," was her mother's placid reply.  
When Bulma returned an hour or so later, her mother was pleased to see that her daughter's mood had greatly improved. "Did you find everything, sweetie?" she asked.  
"Better than that," Bulma replied. "I have a date tonight!"  
"Oh!" Her mother sounded interested. "Did you meet him at the store?"  
"Yep. He was so sweet and polite. He's taking me out to dinner, so I won't be eating with you and Dad, okay?" Bulma said as she headed out of the room. "Now…what to wear?"

***

Vegeta stood at the door of the gravity chamber, towel in hand, wiping the sweat off his face. The breeze felt cool on his damp skin, and he closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the sensation. He was beginning to feel hungry. He stared absently at the ground, planning his after-dinner training session. Suddenly the quiet was broken by the voice of Bulma's mother.  
"Have a good time, sweetheart. Don't stay out too late."  
Vegeta looked up. From where he stood he had a good view of the street in front of the house. Bulma was waving her hand at someone in the house, presumably her mother. He could tell she was dressed up for something. She was always preoccupied with her appearance, but clearly this evening she had taken special pains to make herself attractive. She was wearing an unbuttoned vest over a white top that revealed a large portion of her tummy. Below that she wore a short black skirt that showed a great deal of her legs. His eyes followed those legs from the ankles on up to where they disappeared into her skirt. His mind's eye kept wandering, wondering just what exactly was at the junction of those two legs. No! No, no, no! He slapped his mind off that train of thought. Even still, Vegeta felt a momentary thrill in his midsection as he watched her leave. He'd been feeling little chills and surges while looking at Bulma for several weeks now. And it irritated him to no end. It made him feel weak, and he couldn't afford to be weak. He had tried ignoring those little feelings, and had eventually decided it was lust. Simple as that. He had some leisure time, he was around an attractive woman…with no immediate danger nearby, it was only natural that his body react to her presence. Right.  


***

He was thirsty. He mopped the sweat off his face and headed for the kitchen. It was getting late. Not so late that he felt exhausted, but late enough that he decided that after he'd gotten something to drink he'd go take a shower and call it a night. Thinking how nice it would feel to be clean, Vegeta entered the kitchen and found a plastic glass in a cupboard. He got some delightfully cold water from the refrigerator, and as he lifted the cup to his lips his ears registered voices in the next room. It sounded like that television box thing. Vegeta had a mild interest in the contraption because sometimes the people in the television said funny things; despite his perpetual scowl, Vegeta did posses a sense of humor. Assuming that the person watching the television box was Mr. Briefs (who enjoyed watching funny things rather than the disgustingly sappy soap operas Mrs. Briefs and Bulma preferred), Vegeta decided that perhaps he might join the old man for a few minutes.   
It was not Mr. Briefs.   
Vegeta stopped in the doorway when he realized that the person, no, people, watching the television were Bulma and some fool Vegeta had never seen before. Having learned from Bulma's parents at dinner that Bulma was out on a 'date,' Vegeta concluded that this clown must be who she'd gone out with.  
"Grrrrrr," It was a familiar feeling. One he was not proud of having, but certainly not a new feeling. That same gut-clenching combination of resentment and envy that had made him want to kill Freeza, and that drove him to become a better fighter than Kakkarot. Whoever this punk was, Vegeta seriously resented his presence in the room. Not only that, Vegeta realized, to his dismay, that he also envied the little snot's position on the couch: his arms around Bulma.  
Not only did the fool have his arms around her, he was kissing her! And not some innocent kiss either: it was prolonged, intense and   
CRUNCH  
Vegeta realized that he'd crushed the plastic glass in his hand. Fortunately the noise of the television masked the sound of the cup's demise. He had drunk almost all the water, so there was only a small spill on the floor. Vegeta didn't care if he'd spilt caustic acid. He was too caught up in the scene before him. He was torn with indecision: on the one hand he wanted to pound this intruder into the ground, but on the other hand this was none of his business; he had no claim on her, as she would no doubt remind him loudly if he interfered. And while he hated the idea of her kissing someone else, it was also very exciting to watch her.   
I guess now I **am** a peeping pervert.  


***

Bulma had had a fairly nice evening with the young man she'd met that afternoon. He'd been polite and courteous, interested in what she had to say. He wasn't Yamcha, but he was moderately good looking. So when he brought her home she invited him into the house.   
They had sat on the couch, talking, and then he started kissing her. She was a bit surprised, but not exactly upset. It was nice to be kissing someone again. Yamcha had been gone for so long! But she didn't know this guy very well, and she hadn't totally given up on Yamcha, so she had no intentions of letting things go further than kissing. When he started to touch her breasts she moved his hand away, quietly saying, "No." She felt a stab of annoyance when he put his hand right back. She didn't have the chance to feel anything more than annoyed because suddenly he wasn't there anymore! She opened her eyes to see her date dangling by the back of his shirt, which was caught tight in the grasp of Vegeta!  
"What the hell do you think you're doing!" Vegeta roared at the hapless young man. "Didn't you hear her say 'No'?"  
The unfortunate young man turned wide eyes on Bulma. "You never said you had a boyfriend!" he accused.   
"He's not my boyfriend!" Bulma shouted, glaring at Vegeta.   
"Hey, man, honestly she never said anything! I didn't know! Let me down and I'm out of here!" her date begged Vegeta, who contemptuously dropped him. Bulma's erstwhile date threw one last glance at Vegeta's deadly scowl and fled.   
"What is your problem?" Bulma snarled as she clenched her fists and prepared to hit him. He seized her wrists and pulled her up close to him. He stared into her eyes with mingled rage and desire.   
"You're hurting me!" Bulma complained. He loosened his grip slightly, but not enough for her to break away. Without the distraction of the pain in her wrists, Bulma recognized the expression on Vegeta's face. She'd seen that look of desire plenty of times before. When she had been younger she had delighted in causing Yamcha to look at her like that (and then leave him hanging). But she'd never expected to see **Vegeta** look at her that way! Nor had she thought she could cause the hard pressure she was feeling against her stomach. In her surprise, she took a step back and looked him up and down as if she'd never **really** seen him before. His body really was impressive. She idly thought how much better he'd look without his training clothes. The more she thought about it, the more interested she felt. Her eyes caught on his midsection as she saw the outline of the source of the pressure she'd felt on her stomach. Dear God, he's huge! she thought. Her face registered a momentary flash of apprehension as she realized that sex with him could actually hurt! However, on further consideration, she decided that with sufficient lubrication, it would probably be a lot of fun.  
He let her step back, but did not release his grip on her. He watched her look him over and felt a terrible tension. What was she going to do? Was she going to start shouting at him again? Would she try to hit him? His eyes were glued to her face, so he saw her look of fear. That was worse than being slapped, worse than being insulted for a week straight. He dropped her hands and turned away from her.   
"You needn't worry." He snapped over his shoulder, "I prefer my women willing." And he left.   
Bulma stood alone in the room, totally surprised. She had truly thought he was going to kiss her. And she had been planning to let him! But he was gone. What happened? What did I do? Bulma felt thoroughly confused. Reflecting on the expression on his face just before he dropped her hands, she began to suspect that somehow she'd hurt his feelings. Bulma had to laugh at that thought. Vegeta hasn't got any feelings to hurt! She decided that she deserved to know what his last comment meant and followed him to find out.   
Bulma climbed the stairs to Vegeta's room, still puzzling over what he'd said. When she thought about running her hands over his body she shivered and muttered, "But I **was** willing. The idiot."   
When she got to his door she rapped on it and reached for the handle. Through the door she heard a muffled, "Go away." She ignored it and opened the door. He stood at the window with his back to her.   
"What do you want, woman?" he growled.  
Sifting though several possible replies, Bulma decided to simply ask, "What did I do that made you leave?" She tried to make her tone as inoffensive as possible.  
"I don't know what you're talking about," he muttered.  
"Yes, you do," she snapped. "What happened? Tell me."  
He growled. "I saw the look on your face."  
"What look?" she asked, feeling bewildered.  
"You were frightened. You thought I was going to assault you." Vegeta sneered, scowled at the window.  
"No, I didn't." It was becoming a little clearer now, but she was still confused.  
"What?" In surprise, he turned to look at her. Then, "I know fear when I see it." He turned back to the window.   
Rapidly replaying in her mind the things she had been thinking while looking at him, suddenly she understood. Slowly, quietly, she moved to stand directly behind him. She reached out and touched his arm. He flinched but didn't move. "I think you misunderstood," she said.   
"Misunderstood what?" Breathing was harder with such proximity to her. Her smell filled his nose. There was something extra in her smell tonight. It was all quite arousing.   
"You thought I was frightened. Maybe I was, a little, but not for the reason you think."  
"Hmm? What do you mean? What were you afraid of then?" he demanded, still facing the window, but turning his head to the side so he could see her.  
"Well," she began, "most human men aren't so big."   
He turned completely around to look at her, with bafflement all over his face. "Big? I'm hardly taller than you are."  
She smiled and slightly blushed. "No, that's not what I mean." Did she dare? If she did there would be no turning back.  
"Then what? What? Explain yourself." He insisted she tell him.   
With a sly smile, Bulma cast her eyes down to the floor, then back up to meet his. Leaning slightly forward, she gently rubbed the back of her hand up the length of the bulge in his clothes. "This," she said.  
His eyes opened wide and he gasped in astonishment. That had felt incredible! His eyes searched her face for a clue to what he should do. He wanted to pull her to him and devour her sweet mouth with kisses, but he hesitated. For her to touch him like that seemed to him like a pretty clear indication of what she wanted, but still…women were very strange. Especially this one. He knew unerringly when to wait and when to attack in a battle, but this was an entirely different arena. Her earlier insult about pleasing women had stung him because it was true. He didn't know what to do.   
She glanced around his thoroughly untidy room and made a decision. "How about you go take a shower and then come down to my room and we can discuss it further. Hmm?"   
He seized upon her suggestion. "Alright, then."  
"Do you even know where my room is?" she asked. "No. But by following your smell, I should have no trouble finding it," he replied.  
"My smell! What are you talking about? I don't smell!" she was incensed.  
He laughed. Relief was making him almost giddy. "I'm not saying you stink, woman. You wear perfume, don't you?"  
"Yes," she grudgingly replied.  
"Don't you think I can smell that?"   
"Are you saying I wear too much perfume?"  
"No," he sighed. "I thought that as much time as you've spent around Kakkarot that you would know that saiyans have a very good sense of smell. Even if you didn't wear perfume, I could still smell your soap, and all that other stuff you put on yourself."  
"Oh," she said, somewhat mollified. She could recall several times when Goku had tracked something down by a smell no one else could detect. "Mmm. Alright." She turned to leave and smiled, "See you later, then." She left, closing the door behind her.  
Vegeta sat down hard on the window seat. He had come through that encounter without having any strips of his hide removed by her caustic tongue. Thinking of her tongue made him hard all over again. He wasn't sure what exactly she had in mind for later, but he had an idea. He decided he wanted to get clean quickly and go find out!  


***

Bulma sat on the foot of her bed staring into her closet. She was trying to decide if she wanted to change her clothes or keep on what she had been wearing. She had already decided that she didn't want to put on any of her slinky lingerie, namely because she wasn't sure how the encounter was going to go. Knowing Vegeta, he was perfectly capable of finding some way to make her sorry she'd extended the invitation to her private domain.   
Bulma felt a twinge of guilt about propositioning Vegeta. She knew Yamcha would be very angry if he found out. She tossed her head. Let him find out. Maybe I'll arrange it so he will. That will teach him to ignore me for so long. Besides, he'll blame Vegeta, not me.   
She was still struggling with whether or not she wanted to put on something a little more comfortable, less confining, but still sexy when she heard a short rap on her door. That was fast! she thought. He must have been in a hurry! She giggled at the thought. That he had cleaned up in such haste could only man one thing: he was really interested in spending some time with her.   
Vegeta, on the other side of the door, was wondering if maybe he should have taken a little longer He was very eager for whatever might happen, but he didn't really want Bulma to know that. Still, it was too late now; he'd already knocked on her door. As he had predicted, he had no trouble finding her room. Once he was in the correct hallway, all he had to do was head in the direction her scent came from strongest. Standing outside her door, he had no doubts that he was in the right place. This must have been her bedroom for years. Even the outside of the door smelled like her.  
"Come in," she called, feeling a thrill of anticipation. She really had no idea how this would turn out. They could spend the next several hours having passionate sex, or they could have a miserable fifteen-minute attempt at having passionate sex. Despite her earlier taunt, she really had no idea if Vegeta had ever done anything sexual with a woman. He opened the door.   
He was wearing "normal" clothes instead of his usual training suits; just jeans and a T-shirt, both of which Bulma thought he looked surprisingly attractive in. Shutting the door behind himself, he took a few steps into the room, then stopped. Bulma stood up and walked closer to him. They stared at each other. Vegeta watched her for a clue to what she wanted him to do. She waited. Then, becoming impatient, she asked, "Well? Are you going to kiss me or not?"  
Vegeta took a step closer to her and slid an arm around her waist. He pulled her up against his body, eyes staring intensely into hers. His eyes moved to her lips. She told me to kiss her. She wants this. Stop wasting time, fool. He kissed her.  
She could tell by the touch of his lips on hers that he had never kissed a woman before. But what he lacked in finesse he made up for in enthusiasm. He crushed her against him, kissing her as if he would drown if he stopped. She locked her arms around his neck and pressed her chest up against his as she extended her tongue to lick his lips. He opened his mouth for her and inhaled sharply as their tongues met. She found his eagerness and intensity very exciting.  
Vegeta stopped trying to think and gave into just being there with her.   
After awhile, she released her hold on him and started wriggling her shoulders. He broke the kiss to see what on earth she was doing, and realized she'd removed her vest, completely revealing her white top. Vegeta put his hands on her shoulders, just feeling the soft skin of her neck and back. He idly hooked a finger under one of the tiny thin straps that held her shirt up, rubbing the skin underneath. She closed her eyes and leaned her head to one side so that her cheek rubbed against the back of his hand. He lifted that hand to touch her cheek, running his fingers along her jawbone. Then, turning her head, she caught his hand in hers and brought those fingers to her lips. She kissed his fingertips, then opened his hand and placed a soft kiss in his palm. Vegeta was amazed by how arousing such a simple action could be. He had known for a long time what basic behaviors constituted reproduction, but he'd never really given any thought to any preliminary steps until recently. He began to wonder what else was in store before the actual sex act.   
Bulma wrapped her arms around his waist and laid her cheek against his neck. She left little kisses in a line up the side of his neck towards his ear. There she pulled his earlobe in her mouth and nibbled on it. Vegeta couldn't decide which he liked better: the feel of her mouth or the sound and feel of her breathing in his ear. He plunged his head down to kiss her throat. He kissed her neck and shoulder, and decided he couldn't get to the rest of her throat while she was standing up. So he scooped her up and dropped her on the bed. She giggled as she bounced, then lay back to look at him still standing there looking at her. The look in his eyes made her feel very satisfied with herself. He thought she was beautiful, she could tell.   
He looked at her; amazed that she was really going to let him do the things he'd been trying to shove out of his mind. Then with a wolfish grin, he pounced on her, rolling her over so that she lay on top of him. She laid her palms in the center of his chest, then rested her chin on them as she regarded him with a slightly wicked smile.  
"What are you thinking?" she asked him, not really expecting an answer. He rolled her over again so now he was on top of her, pinning her to the bed. His eyes narrowed.   
"Maybe I'll tell you some other time," he said, as he resumed kissing her. She ran her hands up and down his back, feeling the muscles hidden under his shirt. She wanted to feel skin. She slid her hands down toward his waist and began untucking his shirt. Then she slid her hands underneath the fabric to feel the skin of his back.   
He ceased kissing her lips and moved back to her neck. She tilted her head back and closed her eyes as his lips wandered down her throat to the indentation between her collarbones. She then became aware of a hand at her waist exploring her midriff, fingers spread across her bare stomach, a thumb running along her rib cage. He lifted his head from her neck and kissed her deeply as his hand inched up over her ribs toward her breasts. When his fingertips touched her breast she felt a surge of excitement. He put his whole hand on her breast, and then broke off the kiss to look at her in confusion.  
"What is this? More cloth?" he growled.  
She laughed as she realized the source of his confusion. She sat up and reached around behind herself to unhook her bra. She removed it from under her shirt and presented it to him. "It's a bra," she told him.   
"What is the purpose of this thing?" he asked with a scowl. "No, never mind. Don't tell me. I don't care." He tossed it over his shoulder and pulled her back into his arms. He resumed kissing her, stroking her face, her hair, her arms, and then he slid his palm back under her shirt. This time when he felt her breast there was nothing between his skin and hers. He massaged her breast while kissing her lips. Soon he resumed kissing her throat, mouth moving steadily towards her breasts. He wanted to taste them. Then he decided that her shirt just had to go. It was causing too much interference. He momentarily considered simply ripping it open, but concluded that ruining her clothing was a sure way to start a fight. Fighting was fun, but not the kind of fun he had in mind. Before he could decide how to get her shirt off of her, she started pulling his shirt up towards his head. He sat up and pulled his shirt off over his head and tossed it on the floor. She pushed him back down on his back and straddled him. She gave him a very sexy smile and slowly began to remove her own shirt. Sitting over him caused her skirt to hike up, revealing more of her legs. Vegeta rubbed his hands on her legs, gradually working his way up. He slid his hands up the outside of her legs and under her skirt. As she dropped her shirt over the side of the bed he cupped his hands around her butt. She leaned forward to kiss him, rubbing her bare chest against his. The feel of her breasts against his chest was exciting. He rolled over, pinning her beneath him. Her smell, the feel of her lips and hands on his skin, his hands on her silky body…it was intoxicating.   
Her breasts were a totally new entertainment. He wanted to spend some quality time with them. Vegeta took the nipple of one breast into his mouth, sucking and nibbling on it. He ran his tongue around and around it. Her moans and cries of pleasure merely added to his pleasure. She dug her fingers into his hair, holding his mouth against her. He shifted his attentions to the other breast. She arched her back, pushing her breast up to meet his lips.   
He wanted more of her. He needed to feel all of her body against his own. He sat up and grinned at the sight of her flushed face and glazed eyes. "How does this thing come off?" he asked as he tugged at her skirt. His impatience and his ignorance amused her. She reached to the side-seam and found the hidden zipper. Once she had unzipped it, she lifted her hips off the bed to slide the skirt off. The sight of her lacy, delicate underwear caused him to seize the bottom hem of the skirt and pull it to her ankles in one rapid tug. Bulma kicked it off of her feet onto the floor. For a moment he simply sat and gazed at her, taking it all in.   
Bulma sat up and reached for the button at his waist. She took a little more time than was really necessary to undo his pants, sliding her fingers teasingly over the hardness she revealed. He closed his eyes. The jeans had to go. Now! He leapt off the bed, shoving the seat of his pants down to his knees. Then standing on one foot and then the other, he grabbed at the cloth bunched around his feet and rapidly freed his legs. Then he was back on the bed, jumping into her embrace. For a time they kissed and touched, each exploring the other.   
He feels so good! Bulma thought. Why didn't I do this sooner?  
He sat back on his heels between her legs, hooked his fingers in the waistband of her panties and pulled them off, lifting her legs into the air in the process. Her legs came down, one on each of his shoulders. He looked down at what he had revealed. He could see just a hint of pink between the blue curls. His nostrils were filled with the smell of her. Her overall smell had changed while they were kissing, and now with her genitals so close to his face he realized that this was the source of the change. He closed his eyes. It was a heady smell, and he wanted more of it. He grabbed her hips and lifted her further onto his lap. Her knees bent over his shoulders, giving him an even better view. He kissed the inside of her thigh, reveling in her response. His lips pressed against her skin higher and higher up her leg. Her breathing became heavier in anticipation. She was astonished. Is he really going to…Yes! When he reached the juncture of her legs he tentatively reached out his tongue to taste her. He was rewarded with a gasp of pleasure. He licked her again and she moaned, loosening her leg muscles to provide him with easier access. The wonderful scent of female filled his senses. His tongue explored, hunting out her most sensitive places. Her responses were gratifying; he was delighted to know that she was enjoying his touch.   
Before long he had determined the spot that produced the greatest reaction and decided to focus on that for awhile. He loved feeling her hips shift to meet his touch. Soon he realized that her moans were becoming louder and more frequent. Then suddenly she cried out. It was almost a shout. Her hands spasmodically clutched the sheets.   
After several moments had passed, her body relaxed. He set her legs on the bed on either side of himself, then crawled forward to kiss her lips. She wrapped her arms around his back, holding him close to her body. She pressed her hips up against his, feeling the hard warmth of his arousal against her stomach even through his underpants. She stuck a finger into the waistband. Instead of getting up to remove them, he simply tore them off and threw what was left in the general direction of the floor. She slid her hand down to take hold of him and guide him into her.  
She helped him find her opening and he slowly began to push into her. As wet as she was, it was easy to slide all the way in. Vegeta remained still for a moment, reveling in the feeling of her warmth enclosing around him. Then they began to move together.  
As he pushed into her he felt a buildup of something, something he wanted very much. It grew and grew until feelings of incredible pleasure crashed over him. Bulma felt him stiffen along with a sudden rush of liquid warmth inside her. He gave a harsh cry as the wonderful feeling of euphoria spread throughout his body. He collapsed over her, breathing heavily. As he slid off of her to lie by her side, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close. He held her, idly rubbing her back, eyes closed while his breathing gradually slowed. Then he opened his eyes to find her regarding him with a small smile on her lips.   
"Having fun?" she asked him.  
His reply was to grab her chin and kiss her. For awhile they just lay there, kissing and feeling each other's skin. Then Bulma pushed him onto his back and straddled his waist. He could feel her, warm and moist against his stomach. She leaned forward and began playing with his nipples. She licked and nibbled, and soon she felt his hardness return. She reached under herself for his penis. When she found it she guided it into herself. She closed her eyes and began to move. He discovered that having her sit like that, where he could see her, watch her move, observe every reaction to what she felt was extremely erotic. He began to move with her, pushing his hips up to meet her motions. Her mouth fell slightly open. Vegeta had the momentary thought that he wasn't sure which he liked more: the feelings she was creating in his body, or watching her enjoying herself. She began to move faster and faster, and he began to feel the same buildup as before. As she felt her climax coming closer she threw her head back and moaned. Then it happened; the rapture began in her middle and spread all the way to her fingers and toes, making them tingle. He smiled as her muscles spasmed around him. He felt a great deal of self-satisfaction in knowing that it was **his** body that was causing her such delight.   
"Oh! Vegeta!" she cried.  
Watching her orgasm had brought him close to his own, and hearing his name in such tones of passion and pleasure was all that it took to send him over the edge.   
Bulma dimly perceived that her partner's thrusting had stopped; that particular act had come to a conclusion. She slowly leaned forward to lie on his chest.   
After awhile Vegeta spoke, "Now I understand why your father is so interested in those magazines of his."  
Bulma giggled. She rolled off of him to lie on her back. He turned on his side, looking at her, still keeping one arm around her.   
"Why did you say my name?" he asked.   
"Did I?"  
"Yes."  
She blushed. "I don't know."  
"Does that mean you were thinking of me?" he asked, making it sound as if he didn't care at all either way.   
"It's rude to be with one person and be thinking of someone else!" she snapped.  
"Mmm. I assumed you'd be thinking of your darling Yamcha." He replied, mockingly.  
"Yamcha's a jerk! I don't want to think about him!"   
"I thought he was your boyfriend," Vegeta remarked, in an indifferent tone.  
"Maybe not anymore. Maybe I'm tired of his shit. Maybe I'll tell him to go to hell." She scowled at the ceiling, crossing her arms over her chest. Then she smirked. "Maybe I'll tell him about you."   
"Me?"  
"Yes." Her smile got wider and more wicked. "That would just burn him up." Her face grew thoughtful. "Hmmm. But how to go about it?" she muttered. Then she yawned. "Never mind. I'll worry about it in the morning," she mumbled sleepily, turning back towards Vegeta and sliding an arm around his waist. She snuggled her head up against his shoulder and closed her eyes.   
Vegeta watched her for awhile. Listening to her breathing become slow and regular, he realized she was asleep. Once he was satisfied she was truly asleep, he allowed himself to completely relax. He brushed some stray hair off her forehead. He was a little surprised to find that it actually felt nice, just lying quietly, holding her. He hadn't been held since he was a small child, and he'd forgotten what it was like.   
He thought back on the very pleasant events of the night and allowed himself to smile. He had had a very good time. He looked at Bulma's sleeping face. I wonder if she'll let me do this again tomorrow.   
  



	2. All this for an Earring?

DISCLAIMER: I do not own Dragonball Z or anything related to it. I wrote this purely for my own entertainment.

A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed the first part! Such nice things to say! :) Basically what I'm doing here is writing down the ideas that bounce around in my head as I try to go to sleep at night. Ever since I was a little kid I've told myself stories to help me go to sleep; I have always been intrigued by the interplay between Vegeta and Bulma, so sometimes I make up stories about them. I really want to try to make each piece pretty much self-contained, but I reserve the right to come back later and add more if I think of something worth adding. :) I'm not leading up to some grand conclusion or anything like that. These are more like little snippets of how I imagine Bulma and Vegeta's relationship might have progressed. 

-This particular piece is rated PG. Sorry…no lemonish fun here. Don't give up hope, though. I'm sure there will be some in a future piece. :)

*All this for an Earring?*

It wasn't very late in the evening. In fact the sun hadn't even gone down yet. But Bulma was nowhere to be found. Vegeta sat in a chair, idly watching the wrestling match the old man had turned on. Vegeta wondered where the woman had gotten to. He hadn't seen her since that morning. He supposed she could have gone out shopping or something like that, but he would be damned before he asked her father such a question. Vegeta and Bulma had taken to sleeping together on a fairly regular basis, but he didn't know if her father knew that. If her father did know, he was maintaining the polite fiction that he didn't. 

Vegeta himself wasn't entirely certain about the arrangement he had with the woman. Since they had begun sleeping together, the only nights they hadn't spent together were the times he had gotten himself thoroughly injured, but he still didn't consider it certain that the pattern would continue. He was fully aware that if she got in one of her moods she might very well refuse him, and he had no desire to be rejected, even temporarily. Sometimes he would approach her, but more frequently his modus operandi was, once evening came, to simply be somewhere around the house where she could easily find him if she wanted to. He had taken more and more to watching television with her father after dinner, much to the older man's surprise. Generally Bulma would join them, and after awhile, her father would retire to his bedroom. Then things would get interesting. 

Mrs. Briefs passed through the room. Her husband asked her, "Is Bulma still up there?"

Mrs. Briefs sighed. "Yes. She's still lying on the bed." The older woman shook her head and continued into the kitchen. Mr. Briefs sighed, shook his head and got up to leave the room.

Obviously they knew something he didn't. He wondered what it was, then told himself it was none of his concern. Then he wondered if her parents had meant that Bulma was upstairs crying about something. If so, then staying out of her was probably healthiest. But, on the other hand, it could be something to pick a fight over. Aside from simply being entertaining, fighting with Bulma had on a few occasions turned into other, even more entertaining activities. Having arrived at the satisfactory conclusion that he was going upstairs to pick a fight, and not from some ridiculous concern for the woman, he got up and left the room. 

She lay curled up on her side on the bed, one hand holding a tissue, the other wrapped around something. She was crying. Not heavy gut-wrenching sobs, just an endless trickle from her eyes punctuated by the occasional sniffle. He mentally prayed that whatever she was crying about wasn't Yamcha. She heard his tread on the carpet and looked up. The look on her face wasn't the same expression as the one she wore when she was having a pity party about her worthless boyfriend. This expression looked more in keeping with a small child whose kitten was missing.

He came and sat beside her on the bed. "What are you crying about?"

"You'll just laugh," was her response.

"That's always possible," he replied, leaning back against the pillows. "Especially if it has something to do with **him**." He reached for her and pulled her up against him with her head on his chest. Her hand that was wrapped around something came to rest in the middle of his chest. She held whatever it was in her fingers and looked at it. Her eyes filled with tears all over again. "I'm so stupid. How could I lose it?" she wailed.

"Lose what?"

"An earring."

"An earring?" he raised an eyebrow. "All this over an earring? Woman, you have more earrings than you could wear in a lifetime." He gestured towards her jewelry boxes on her dresser. 

"I know. But these are special," she whispered. He had hoped to jolt her out of her mood by pointing out the foolishness of wasting tears on an ear ornament, but her response gave him a sick feeling in his stomach. Oh, hell. They must be from **him**.

"What is the ~wonderful~ occasion those things are to commemorate?" he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm, almost not wanting to know the answer. Please, not another long rant about that pathetic human…

"Nothing," she said, surprised, not understanding what he meant. "These were my grandmother's favorite earrings. She gave them to me when she died."

He grunted a response. Good. My ears have been spared. He felt much better.

"I remember when she used to wear these, when I'd go stay with her. She always wore them. I loved to sit on her lap and poke them to make them jingle." She held up the remaining earring and jingled it. He saw that the ornament was actually a tiny bell, shaped like a tulip. "She'd wear them all the time so when she was nearby I'd hear a faint jingling sound. It was nice. I loved her so much." The tears began to fall more heavily. He reached over and snagged another tissue for her.

She continued to talk, telling him bits of memories about her grandmother. He could tell that the old woman had meant a lot to her granddaughter.

"She was the only one who could make me do something I didn't want to do." She chuckled, "I really respected her for that." 

"She must have been a very strong person, then, to make you behave," he gave her a sly smirk 

She thumped his chest and said, "This isn't pick-on-Bulma-time." He looked down to see she was making a face at him, crossing her eyes and stretching to corner of her mouth. He smiled. Just a small one, but it was genuine rather than cruel. She lay her head back down on his chest. "So you can see why I'm so upset to lose one of them."

"Mmmm. Were you wearing them today?"

"Yes."

"Did you go anywhere else today?"

"No, I was home."

"Then it has to be somewhere here. Where have you looked?"

"Everywhere!" she wailed. "I've looked under the bed, behind the furniture, in my closet, in the kitchen, under the couch, under the couch cushions, in the lab, all over the yard. I don't know where else to look." Tears began to fall from her eyes again. He held her as she cried. 

She seemed to have nothing else to say, and he began thinking about his own family. He realized, for the first time, that he had nothing that had belonged to either of his parents, much less his grandparents. He had no special something that brought back memories the way the earrings brought Bulma memories of her grandmother. This knowledge made him a little sad. He lay on the bed and tried to remember as many things as he could about his childhood before Freeza.

***

Her leg jerked suddenly, bringing him back to himself. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but he knew she was now asleep. He carefully disentangled himself from her and stood up. Crossing over to the far side of the bed, he pulled back the blankets. Coming back around to the side she lay on, he gently lifted her and carried her around the bed. Before pulling the blankets up around her, he checked to see if her socks were on. For some reason she didn't like sleeping in her socks. Seeing that they were, he carefully removed them and dropped them on the floor. He gently opened her hand and took the earring from its loose grip. Pulling the blankets up around her, he set the earring on the table by her bed where she'd be sure to find it in the morning. Then he closed the door behind himself and headed outside. 


	3. All this for an Earring? Part II

WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual activity. If you, OR YOUR PARENTS (if you are under age 17) will be offended by reading this, then **please** go read something else. Underage readers have done enough damage to this web site as it is. If you do not like reading stories with sexual content, this is your warning to leave. If, at the end of this story, you are unhappy with the amount/type/style/etc. of sexual content, it is your own fault. You have been warned.

A/N: Wow! Everyone has such nice things to say! I had no idea other people would be so entertained by my random ideas. :)

Okay, I'd intended to leave "All this for an Earring?" as it was, with the point being that Vegeta isn't *always* a worthless jerk. But then I got to thinking, so here it is. (Besides, it's a perfect segue into another lemon!)

*All this for an Earring? Part II*

When Bulma woke up in the morning, she was surprised to find herself in bed. The last thing she remembered was falling asleep with her head on Vegeta's chest. She concluded that he must have put her to bed and left. She sat up and realized she was still wearing what she'd had on yesterday. Remembering the earring, she looked around on the bed for it. She was beginning to be upset that she couldn't find it when her eyes fell on her bedside table. He must have taken it out of my hand and put it there last night. She was feeling very pleased and gratified at how he'd behaved: he had comforted her, tucked her in bed, made sure she wouldn't lose her only remaining earring, and not once made any kind of grumbling about wanting sex. The more she thought about it, the more astonishing it seemed. No one would ever believe me if I told. Not that I've told anyone anything. But no one would believe he was capable of it. She stood up, aiming to go take a shower. She stopped when she spotted the socks on the floor. They were the pink socks she'd had on yesterday. How did those get there? I could have sworn I didn't take them off. She couldn't figure it out. Maybe I did take them off. Still puzzling over the socks, she headed into the shower.

As she washed her hair she reflected on the minute changes in their Saiyan houseguest. She thought about how he had ever-so-slightly improved his behavior. It wasn't much of a change, really, but considering the mind-bogglingly massive amount of pride he had, any change at all was remarkable. He certainly still insulted her, demanded that she fix things NOW, mocked what she watched on TV, and generally took any opportunity to disagree with her. But he had, for the most part, dropped the really mean remarks. Months ago when he had first come to live with her family, if she said anything about Yamcha's absence, Vegeta would tell her his views on why Yamcha wasn't around very much. The comments had ranged anywhere from stupid remarks about her appearance (which she had dismissed) to deeply cutting insinuations that Yamcha was sick of her foul temper and was probably spending time with nice girls that never shouted at anyone. Bulma was secretly afraid that Yamcha **was** spending time with girls who would fawn all over him, making him forget about her. Those kind of remarks usually sent her to her room to cry. Bulma didn't know why Vegeta had dropped the subject of Yamcha's apparent lack of enthusiasm for her company, but Vegeta's reasons didn't matter as long as she didn't have to hear about it.

She exited the shower and began to rub her hair with a towel. 

In all honesty, Bulma was willing to admit (to herself) that she picked fights with Vegeta just as much as he started it with her. In a way, it was fun. It was kind of different. Most of the world cringed when she started yelling. Including Yamcha.

She wrapped a towel around herself and started opening drawers looking for something to wear. She shuffled through her underwear and settled on a pair with sweet little roses on it. She felt like wearing pretty underwear. Sometimes she felt like wearing sexy underwear, sometimes she felt like wearing pretty underwear, and sometimes she just grabbed the first thing that came to hand. As she continued getting dressed, her eyes fell again on the socks on the floor by the bed. Then it clicked in her head that the socks being on the floor on the side of the bed she had slept on, (which was not the side she had initially fallen asleep on) meant that they had most likely been taken off when she was on that side of the bed. Since she did not move to that side of the bed on her own steam, then it stood to reason that she was not the one who left the socks there. Which left only one person. How did he know I don't like sleeping in socks? She was mystified. She figured she had probably mentioned it in passing, but never would have thought, never would have expected, that he would remember such a minor detail. How odd! How very odd. Maybe I'll ask him about it later. 

She heard a knock on the door, and went to answer it.

"It's about time you woke up, woman." Her visitor was Vegeta.

"I'll sleep as late as I want to!" She stuck her tongue out at him.

"So I've noticed. But I didn't come up here to discuss your sleeping habits. I found something of yours," he smirked as he leaned against the doorframe.

"What?" she asked, puzzled. He's grinning. What, did some of my clean underwear get mixed in with his?

"It's something you're going to very happy I found," he continued to tease her.

"What? What is it?" She was growing impatient.

"What will you give me for it?" He asked as he looked her up and down suggestively.

She caught on to his game. "That depends on what it's worth," she flirted back. 

"Oh, I think it's worth a lot." 

"Define 'a lot.'"

"Definitely more than a kiss." He came closer. 

"Why don't you show me what it is and I'll tell you what I think it's worth," she suggested. 

He thought about it. "Alright." He held his hand out in front of her and opened it. Lying in his palm was her missing earring.

She gasped. She delicately picked it up. With an expression of pure delight on her face she jingled it. Tears filled her eyes and she launched herself at Vegeta. She flung her arms around his neck and buried her face against his shoulder. 

While in truth feeling quite satisfied with himself, Vegeta maintained an expression to indicate that he was merely tolerating her thanks and that he thought the whole thing was of negligible importance. Then he realized she was crying. 

"Woman, what is the matter now?" he asked in exasperation.

"Nothing," she replied, voice muffled against his chest. "I'm just so happy. I thought it was lost for good. I just feel so much better now."

"Humans," he muttered in disgust. "You cry when you're sad, you cry when you're happy. You cry too much."

"It's a perfectly normal reaction," she said stiffly. Releasing him but still leaning against him, she regarded her newly restored keepsake. "Where did you find it?"

"It was in the garden," he answered her indifferently, as if he'd merely stumbled upon it.

"Where? I looked out there. Where in the garden?"

He didn't want to answer that question. That would reveal that he'd actually been looking instead of simply discovering it.

"Where? Tell me!" she insisted.

He shrugged. "It was just laying under the bench," he lied.

"No way! I crawled all around under there!" she stepped back to look at him, "Where was it really?"

He scowled. "I found it under the bench. What difference does it make anyway? You have it back now! That's what matters."

"But…" she stopped. He was getting angry with her. She realized he didn't want to talk about her where he found it. But why wouldn't he want to tell her? Could he have taken it? No, he'd had no idea those earrings mattered to me. Where could he have found it? I looked everywhere! I spent hours looking. Then it came to her. He must have gone through some effort to find it, and he didn't want her to know. He didn't want her to think he'd take the trouble to do something like that. That made sense. 

But what a surprise! It seemed that he was full of surprises. First the socks, and now he'd taken the trouble to hunt for the missing earring that had been her grandmother's! All these thoughts flashed rapidly through her mind as she stared at him.

He crossed his arms over his chest and glared at her. Okay. He doesn't want me to know. Fine.

She looked down at the earring in her hand and smiled. "You're right. I don't care where it was. All that matters is that I have it back." She shoved aside her curiosity and allowed her happiness to show on her face. "Thank you so much, Vegeta." Ah. The scowl is fading. Good.

She threw her arms around his neck again and kissed him. At first he remained still, but after a moment he uncrossed his arms and began to respond. She ran her fingers through his hair. He put one hand behind her head and pulled her close. The kiss developed into a heated battle of lips and tongues. They took a few steps into the room. 

"Bulma, honey?" It was her mother. The sound of her voice indicated that she was coming up the stairs to Bulma's room. Vegeta released her like she'd burnt him and disappeared onto her balcony.

Bulma took a deep breath and swallowed. "Yes, Mom?"

"Oh, good. You're awake." Mrs. Briefs entered her daughter's room. "How are you this morning?"

"I'm fine." Bulma was a bit puzzled by her mother's tones of sympathy.

"You're not still upset over the earring?" her mother inquired.

"What? Oh, the earring. No, I'm fine, Mom. Guess what? You'll never believe it!"

"What's that?"

"Vegeta found my earring!" Bulma showed it to her mother and did a few happy hops.

"Did he now? Well isn't that nice!" Her mother smiled at her. "I'm so glad."

When her mother left the room, Bulma pushed aside the curtains and stepped out onto her balcony. Vegeta was standing on the railing. "You didn't have to run off like that," she told him.

He raised an eyebrow and said, "Actually, yes, I did." He jumped off the railing onto the balcony.

"What, are you afraid of my mother catching you in my room? You had a valid reason to be there."

He simply scowled at her for several moments. Then he said, "These clothes are tight."

"Then wear different ones." She didn't understand the drift the conversation had taken.

"These are the best kind for training." He scoffed at her suggestion.

"Then what are you complaining about?" She demanded.

He growled at her in frustration. "I'm not complaining. I'm telling you why I had to leave." A faint blush crossed his cheeks and he turned his back on her as if he was greatly interested in the view from her balcony.

"Oh," she understood. "I didn't think about that." She started giggling. "If Mom had noticed…" she broke off as another fit of giggles hit. "…that would have been difficult to explain." She walked over to lean on the railing near him. She looked down at the ground. "You know," she began, "when I was a little girl, I used to try to think of ways to climb down from here so I would be able to leave secretly if I wanted to." 

His looked down at the ground.

She laughed again. "I also used to think about ways people could climb up."

He looked at her in puzzlement. "Why would someone need to climb up? Why not use the door?"

She smiled as she remembered. "Young girls imagine lots of things. Once I started to notice boys, I would sometimes think about how when I got a boyfriend then maybe he could come see me in secret." She shrugged. "It was kinda stupid." She turned around and leaned her back against the railing. "I'd forgotten all about that idea." They stood in silence for awhile, each wrapped in their own thoughts.

Bulma broke the silence with another laugh. "That idea is especially stupid now. But I never expected I'd have a lover who could fly." She pushed herself off the railing and crossed to the other side of the balcony to investigate a potted plant. "Hmmmm. Needs water." She stepped inside to get some water for the plant.

Vegeta still stood in the same spot by the railing. He had been looking out at some trees in the distance when the word 'lover' had reached his ears. He froze. Was she referring to him? Vegeta had always thought that a lover was someone you had sex with. But what, precisely, was the definition of a lover? It had the word 'love' in it, but did that mean a lover was someone who loved you? Or did she mean Yamcha? They could both fly. Yamcha had been her lover, by either definition. Vegeta didn't know if she still considered Yamcha to be her lover even though she hadn't seen him in months. Vegeta had already decided that he'd deal with the Yamcha problem, if there **was** a problem, when the time came. Otherwise, he wouldn't think about the fool. But now, which one of them was she talking about? If she'd been referring to Yamcha, then fine. If she'd meant Yamcha, then the definition of 'lover' didn't matter. But what if she hadn't been referring to Yamcha? If a lover was merely someone you had sex with, then Vegeta supposed he fit that definition. And, on further reflection, if that's all she meant, just a bed partner, then Vegeta didn't completely have a problem with her putting that label on him. 

But what if that wasn't what she had meant? What if she meant that she thought he loved her? **That** was the thought that paralyzed him. Because he didn't. Definitely not. He felt quite sure that he would never be so weak as to love a human. At least, he hoped so. No, he was nothing like Kakkarot. He, Vegeta, would never be so foolish. He would never give anyone leverage to manipulate him. Vegeta thought of how he had tried to explain to Kakkarot on Namek that killing the Ginyu force was necessary because any one of them would gladly snatch Gohan and use the child against them. Vegeta knew that Kakkarot would not be able to stand against that kind of manipulation. But Vegeta cared for no one, so there was no one to be used against him. No one. He was much safer that way.

But…a tiny voice in the back of his mind pointed out that he was no longer Freeza's captive. He was no longer surrounded by other fighters who would jump at the opportunity to pull him down. Here, on Earth, the only person of comparable strength to himself was Kakkarot. Vegeta knew without needing to be told that there was no way Kakkarot would use family or loved ones against another person. Kakkarot, while he was irritating, low-class, stupid, foolish, soft, ignorant and infuriating, was also honest. Kakkarot would not use schemes and plots. If Kakkarot wanted to take Vegeta down, he'd use direct, head-on, physical confrontation. 

But, someday there could be other enemies. Caring for someone would leave him vulnerable to attack. Best not to do it. 

Then another thought hit him. What if she had meant that she loved him! Somehow, that was even worse. He looked around, wondering where she was. He was surprised to realize she wasn't there, and he hadn't heard her leave. If she was gone, he could disappear, no questions asked. And he felt a strong need to disappear for awhile. He flew up to the top of the house and sat there. That seemed like a safe enough place for a little while. 

He returned to his thoughts. Did she mean that she loved him? She didn't act the way he would expect her to if she did. She didn't cry or act hurt when he insulted her. A scowl spread over his features. In fact, she didn't act like his opinion mattered at all. Not like she acted about Yamcha. Vegeta recalled how upset she would get when he would say that Yamcha probably thought poorly of her. He rolled his eyes over the memory of how she'd hide out in her room and cry. And afterwards she'd be extra difficult about fixing things. Vegeta had finally decided that if he wanted her to fix things fast, he'd best keep those sorts of comments to himself. He thought of how she acted when she saw Yamcha. How her face would light up and she'd smile and be all excited. Vegeta thought back and decided that the best reception he'd ever gotten from her was the time she'd said 'Good morning' and smacked his butt as she walked past him. That had definitely surprised him! No one had ever dared to do that before. No, she never got girly and happy when she saw him. Vegeta came to the conclusion that she was clearly not in love with him. 

He expected that, having come to that conclusion, he would feel enormously relieved, and was vaguely unsettled to find that he was not as cheered by his conclusion as he thought he would be. He decided that the whole experience had jangled his emotions and he would feel normal later. 

Having safely arrived at the conviction that neither he nor Bulma cherished any romantic feelings towards the other, he decided to go train some more and forget the whole thing. 

***

Later that night, Bulma came to his room and knocked on the door. When he opened it, she said, "We never agreed on the price of the earring."

"No, we didn't," he agreed in a tone of total indifference.

"What do you think it's worth?" she asked, as she toyed with the ties on the front of her fluffy pink robe.

"Like I said, more than a kiss," he leered at her.

"How much more?" she asked, archly.

"You said you'd tell me what you thought it was worth," he reminded her.

"Okay. Well, I think it is worth this." She opened her robe to reveal that it had hidden very little. She had never worn lingerie for him before, and he discovered that he found it very exciting. It was black, with spaghetti straps, and very low cut. The two pieces clung to her body. The front of the top was solid black satin, with a bow between her breasts. The bottom was a teeny little black thong. 

Vegeta felt himself rapidly hardening. He hadn't known such articles of clothing existed before. He growled, but it was not his usual angry growl, but one of pleasure. He pushed the robe off her shoulders. Then he pulled her against him and began kissing her, while his hands roamed all over this new outfit. It tied in the front at the top, so he was able to untie it and slide his hand inside to feel her warm breasts. She was always very appreciative when he paid attention to her breasts. With one hand inside her outfit and one arm around her waist, he kissed her heatedly. His mouth devoured hers, sucking, nibbling, his tongue eager to taste her. When he stopped, he stepped back and slowly turned her around so he could look at the whole thing. Bulma was pleasantly surprised by his reaction. She hadn't known what he would think of her purchase. She'd bought it with him in mind just that afternoon. She had been surprised and slightly disappointed that he had disappeared from her balcony that morning, but then she had decided to go shopping. She had tried on a number of outfits until she found the one she had purchased. It showed all her curves. The back of the top was all made of lace, so it was largely see-through. He clutched her up tight against his chest again, pressing his lips to her cheek, neck and shoulder. Then he grabbed her up and tossed her on the bed. When he pounced on her, he let his hands roam all over every inch of her that he could reach. She felt his mouth travel down from her lips to her chin, then to her neck and down to the spot between her breasts. Then he deftly tugged the top of the garment down so that both her breasts were exposed. He rubbed one while licking the other. When she began to respond with total disregard for the noise she was making, he grabbed her shoulders and sat her up so he could pull her top off, leaving her clad in only the lacy thong undies. At that point, Bulma began to feel that she was neglecting him, so she began tugging on his shirt to get it off. Then she pushed him on his back and repeated with his nipples what he had done to hers. When she had reduced him to a purring glob of Jell-O, she grabbed hold of his pants and forcibly removed them. Then she pushed aside his underwear and grabbed hold of his penis with her hand. She continued nibbling and licking his nipples while stroking his penis. She tucked her foot under his balls so it would feel like she was cupping them in her hand. It felt wonderful. The arousal built and built, and simply knowing that she was servicing him with little or no benefit to her, knowing that she was willing to do that, made him feel very desirable and sexy, and he climaxed. Bulma scooted up close to his face and lay her cheek against his shoulder. He lay there on the bed and simply enjoyed being, while he waited for his body to recover its breath. Before long, he turned his head to look at her. She was smiling at him naughtily. "Did you enjoy that at all?" she asked, pretending she didn't know. His response was to grasp the back of her head with his hand and press her lips to his own. With the fire in his lips he told her how great he felt. 

Bulma jumped up and snagged a towel from his bathroom and used that to clean up most of the mess. Seeing her moving around in only those tiny t-backed undies was enough to bring Vegeta's lust back from it's slumbering place in the back of his mind. He grabbed Bulma's arm and pulled her onto his chest so he could simultaneously kiss her lips and feel her breasts against his chest. He pulled her up over him, so she was straddling his stomach. One hand held her head so she couldn't escape his kisses and the other rubbed her ass. She ground her hips against his; he knew she could feel his arousal had returned. He dearly wished to rip her undies from her body, but he didn't want to ruin them so that she couldn't wear them again. So instead, he flipped her onto her back and gently began to slide the thong off of her. She giggled and squirmed, trying to help him ease them off her hips and down her legs. When he'd removed them, he flung them behind him to land wherever they might, grabbed hold of her hips with both his hands and rolled her over him to lie on his chest again. She understood what he wanted; he'd loved it ever since the beginning. She grinned impishly at him, and guided him into her. She closed her eyes at the feeling of being filled. He closed his with the bliss of being enclosed. Then they began to move together. Bulma was able to greatly control the speed and depth of the thrusting, and she loved having him relinquish 'control' over the situation. For his part, he loved watching her reach orgasm with the assistance of his body. He found it extremely erotic. She found her rhythm, and he copied it, thrusting and pulling as the melody they created dictated. 

Before long, he could tell her urgency had increased; the speed and violence with which she pushed against him had grown. He went along with her; the greater her need, the sexier she looked to him. He could tell her climax was imminent when her breathing became little more than gasps. Her muscles spasmodically clamped around him; he hung on for just a moment more, then gave in to the waves of bliss that moved from his center outward towards his toes and fingers. As always, as she peaked she called his name. He had never told her how much that meant to him; he felt almost foolish for feeling such a rush of lust and excitement over such a small thing. And he loved the seeming spontaneity of it. She collapsed over him, wrapping her arms around his neck and panting in his ear. He loosely draped his arms over her back, as if to say he wanted her near. She slowly lifted her head up to look at his face. His eyes were still closed. She looked at his features; immediately after sex was one of the few times his face wasn't twisted into a frown. He opened his eyes and stared into her blue ones.   
"Why are you staring at me?" he finally asked, somewhat grumpily.

"I was just noticing the difference between the expression you just had and your usual scowl. You look much nicer when you're not frowning."

"I don't want to look 'nice'," he snapped.

"I know," his grump didn't ruffle her calm. "I was just noticing."

"**I'm** not nice," he angrily reminded her.

"No arguments here," she replied calmly as she lay her head on his shoulder. He pushed her off of him and leaned over her.

"What do you want from me, woman?" he demanded.

She grinned up at him with a distinctly naughty grin. "What do I want?" she echoed as her hands traced invisible patterns on his skin. "I want to do it again!" 


	4. A Reading Lesson

WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual activity. If you, OR YOUR PARENTS (if you are under age 17) will be offended by reading this, then **please** go read something else. Underage readers have done enough damage to this web site as it is. If you do not like reading stories with sexual content, this is your warning to leave. If, at the end of this story, you are unhappy with the amount/type/style/etc. of sexual content, it is your own fault. You have been warned.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own DBZ. It's not mine, I just like playing with it. :)

A/N: Here's another random idea that came to me. Be forewarned, it is not appropriate for children! 

*A Reading Lesson*

"This TV show is incredibly stupid," Vegeta declared.

"Then don't watch it," Bulma absently replied from her spot on the couch. She was stretched out with her head on a pillow at one end and her feet on a pillow at the other.

"Everything else on is even stupider," he complained.

She sighed. Taking a moment to look up from the magazine article she was reading, she grabbed another magazine from the stack on the table behind her head. "Here," she tossed him the magazine. "Read that."

"I don't want to read," he protested.

"Well, I do. So shut up," was her response. She held her magazine up in front of her face and returned to a fascinating article on new techniques for programming artificially intelligent housekeepers. 

Realizing that his scowl was wasted on a magazine cover, he picked up the one she'd tossed him. The scowl deepened as he realized he couldn't read all the print on the cover. He tried glaring at her father, but the older man had turned his recliner so he couldn't see Vegeta's face. 

Vegeta randomly opened the magazine to a picture of the Earth's solar system. Outer space. Feeling that the topic had the possibility of being a **bit** interesting, he began to read the article. It was rough going. Before he got very far he got hung on a long word, tried to work through it and gave up. "Woman, what does this say?"

Without looking up from her own magazine, Bulma responded, "How should I know? I can't see it from over here." 

"Then come here and look at it," he demanded.

She looked up and scowled. "No. You come over here and show me." They scowled at each other. 

Bulma sighed and pulled her legs up to her body. "Come sit over here." She indicated the opposite end of the couch she was sitting on, now empty.

He frowned at her for a long moment. Then he turned to look at the back of her father's head. He looked back at her, and then back at her father. 

Bulma rolled her eyes. "Dad?"

"Hmmm?" her father responded.

"Isn't it time for you to go to bed? It's getting late." 

"Hmm? What?" her father looked up at the clock on the wall. "It's not really all that late, sweetie." He twisted himself around to look at his daughter. She looked aggravated. When she raised her eyebrows, he understood. He knew there was something going on between his daughter and the Saiyan who lived with them, and assumed that was her reason for wanting him to leave. He stood up. "I'll be in the lab."

"Okay, Daddy," she smiled at him in thanks.

Once he left the room she turned her eyes to Vegeta. "There. He's gone. Happy now?" She went back to reading. She was not left in peace for long. 

"I still want to know what this says," Vegeta reminded her impatiently.

"Then come here and show me!" she snapped.

He grudgingly moved to share the couch with her. She extended her legs and slid her toes under him. "What are you doing?" he demanded, puzzled.

"My toes are cold. If you're going to bother me, the least you can do is keep my feet warm. Now, which word it is?"

With his finger under the word in question, he extended the magazine to her. "That."

She glanced at it. "Extraterrestrial." She tried to continue her own article.

"Extraterrestrial?" he echoed. "What is an extraterrestrial?"

She looked up briefly, "You." Her eyes returned to her own magazine.

"Woman," he growled at her. He was becoming increasingly frustrated.

"What?" Again, she didn't look at him. 

"That doesn't help! I am many things," he bitingly informed her.

"Yes, and right now, you are most prominently a pain in the ass!" She finally looked up at him. "An extraterrestrial is a being that is not from the planet Earth."

"Ah." He returned to the sentence with that word. Hoping that was the final interruption, Bulma again tried to read her own article. She found that with his interruptions, while her eyes had 'read' the words in the paragraph she was currently on, her mind had not retained any of the information. Growling, she reread the paragraph. Just as she finished that paragraph and began the next one he interrupted her again.

"What is this word?"

She leveled a deadly stare at him. He ignored it. 

"Well? What is it?" he demanded.

She sat up. "Which word?" She snapped.

He pointed.

"Omniscient." She lay back down and again held her magazine in front of her face. "It means 'all knowing.'"

"I know what it means," he objected. 

"Well, good for you!" 

He allowed her to read several more paragraphs before indignantly shouting, "That is ridiculous!" He turned to her. "Am I correct in understanding that this says that extraterrestrials don't exist?!"

From behind her magazine he heard her sigh deeply. "I haven't read all these magazines yet," she angrily informed him. "So I don't know if you are correct or not." She quickly sat up and slapped her magazine on the floor. "But I'm beginning to *wish* that extraterrestrials didn't exist!"

He ignored her last remark and pushed his magazine at her. "Then read it!" he demanded. 

Her eyes narrowed. Her hands became like claws. "You're not going to let me read, are you?" She spat each word at him like she wished it were a poisoned dart.

He smirked at her. "Not until you answer my question."

"And then you'll just come up with another one!"

"Probably," he admitted. "You were the one who wanted me to read in the first place," he reminded her.

"That's because I thought you could!"

"I can!" he retorted. Then he added, "Just not all of it."

She put her head in her hands and massaged her temples. "Okay. Here's what we'll do." She took the magazine away from him and flipped back to look at the cover. "Ah, this issue." Then she got up and moved so she sat next to him. She cuddled up against him so her back was leaning on his chest. She opened up the magazine to the article he had been reading and held it so they could both see it. "Now give me a minute to read this." She began scanning through the article, mumbling to herself. "How far did you get?"

He pointed to where he had stopped reading.

"Mmm," she mumbled as she continued reading. "Yeah, you're right. It says extraterrestrials probably don't exist."

"Whoever wrote this is a fool," Vegeta pronounced.

"That may be so, but you should finish the article before you decide that for sure," she pointed out. Her eyes jumped ahead to continue reading.

After a moment, he decided to read a little further. It wasn't too long before he came across another unfamiliar word. He jabbed it with his finger. She backtracked to look at it, and read it for him. He knew the meaning of that one, too.

They continued in this manner until he finished the article. She finished long before he did, so in between questions she closed her eyes and relaxed. 

"I still think the person who wrote this is a fool," he insisted. 

She giggled.

"What's so funny, woman?" 

"I was just thinking of how *delighted* the author of that article would be to meet you and hear your views on the subject," she continued to laugh.

He snorted at the idea. 

She turned the page to the next article. She read halfway down the page before she realized he was smelling her hair. "What are you doing?" she asked him.

"Smelling you."

She giggled again. "That is so strange."

"Maybe to humans," he replied. 

"I thought you were reading," she pretended to protest.

"Woman, think about it," he said as he tightened his arms around her. "Why would I choose to continue to read a boring magazine when there are more interesting things to do?" He brushed the hair away from her neck and began brushing his lips on her shoulder.

"What are you doing now?" she lazily inquired.

"Something more interesting," he murmured into her ear. "Do you disagree?"

"Well, no." 

He went back to kissing her neck. He removed one arm from around her waist and stealthily slipped it up under the back of her shirt. 

She felt his warm palm sliding across her back. She very briefly wondered what he was planning to do with that hand, when the heat of his lips on her neck recaptured her attention. She slowly let the magazine fall to her lap. Eyes closed, she enjoyed the way his attentions made her feel. She couldn't help but contrast her current sexual relationship with the one she had with Yamcha. Yamcha was not near so aggressive. Nor did he make advances with such confidence. Vegeta may not have felt so confident to begin with, but he had quickly adopted an attitude that implied an abundance of self-assurance.

She felt his fingers stop over the center of her back. Just when she realized what he intended, she felt the release of elastic pressure encircling her body; he had unhooked her bra. 

"One-handed. I'm impressed," she teased.

His answer was to glide that hand around her side to her breast. Then the other hand, the one that had been around her waist, slithered under her shirt towards the other breast. Behind her head, where she could not see him, he grinned gleefully at the increase in her breathing rate. He felt that, while he was hardly civil to her in every other aspect of their relationship, he made up for it by being extremely good to her when they were intimate. He told himself that, after all, the fact that he was able to elicit such enthusiastic responses from her merely reflected on another facet of his strength. Therefore, there was nothing for him to be ashamed of. He was merely behaving as a male should: he was satisfying his sex drive and in the process driving the woman crazy. It's not like he felt any emotional attachment to her.

She relished the feelings of his hands on her breasts. He touched, stroked, and rubbed sending electricity down to her toes. She allowed her head to drop back on his shoulder, and opened her mouth so she could get more air. Her breathing had gotten so heavy that anyone who walked past the room would know immediately what kind of activity was going on in there. She didn't care; she was enjoying herself far too much to stop. His hands on her breasts, his lips on her cheek and neck and shoulder, his breathing (which had also accelerated) in her ear all served to excite her so much that she could feel a rush of her own moisture. She was beginning to strongly crave release.

Vegeta could tell from her smell and from the way she had started to tilt her hips that she wanted something more. He let go of one breast and sent that hand hunting for her waistband. He was pleased to find that her pants were very elastic; they easily stretched to accommodate the intrusion of his hand. 

She gasped as his hand entered her pants, and gasped even louder when he found her folds. Slowly and carefully he began to stroke her. She shifted herself a little to give him easier access, then abandoned herself to the sensations. His fingers were instruments of delight as they rubbed against her most sensitive spot. It felt wonderful. She was enjoying herself so much she didn't want it to stop. The feelings built and intensified until the flood of pleasure overwhelmed her senses. 

Vegeta felt her body stiffen as she pushed her hips against his hand. She cried out and then gasped his name. Bulma was dimly aware that they were not in a very private place, and tried to keep her noises to a minimum. She quietly moaned in between deep gulps of air. Then she collapsed against him, totally relaxed, and whispered his name again.

He slid his hand out of her pants and smoothed down the front of her shirt to give her at least the semblance of a normal appearance. He would not be happy if her nosy parents decided to investigate anything they might have heard. Then he rested his hands on her hips and waited to see what she would say next. 

"I can't believe you did that down here where my parents could find us," she mumbled.

"You could have stopped me," he pointed out, smirking.

She couldn't think of an acceptable reply to that, so she ignored it. She was sorely tempted to give as good as she'd gotten and see if he objected to their location, but she decided that being caught on her knees by her parents was too embarrassing to risk. 

Bulma twisted around so she could see his face. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. She leaned into the kiss, expanding and deepening it. Before things could get too far out of hand, he jumped off the couch. She looked at him in surprise and began to stand up. He bent and picked her up, draping her over his shoulder. 

"Ah! What are you doing?" she howled. 

He headed for the stairs. 

"Where are you taking me?" she demanded. 

"You'll see," was his reply. He flew up the stairs and around the corner to his own room. 

"Put me down!" She tried to wriggle loose.

As he entered his room he told her, "Don't worry, woman. I will!" He kicked the door shut behind them.

"I'll get you for this, Vegeta!"   
"Good!" he replied. 

As he dropped her on the bed, she was amazed by a sound that, coming from any other person, she would have called a laugh.


	5. It Isn't 'Nothing' To Me

WARNING: This story contains descriptions of sexual activity. If you, OR YOUR PARENTS (if you are under age 17) will be offended by reading this, then **please** go read something else. Underage readers have done enough damage to this web site as it is. If you do not like reading stories with sexual content, this is your warning to leave. If, at the end of this story, you are unhappy with the amount/type/style/etc. of sexual content, it is your own fault. You have been warned.

A/N: I do not own DBZ or anything connected to it (other than my cool Piccolo action figure). This earns me nada…I write merely for my own entertainment.

*It Isn't 'Nothing' To Me*

Bulma passed through the den, not noticing the figure ensconced in the recliner. She had assumed Vegeta was outside training, until she felt his hand on her elbow.

"Where do you think you're going, dressed like that?" he demanded. She stood in front of him clad in a bikini with a pair of short shorts over the bottom. The shorts were low on her hips. The top was red with a pattern of lighter red markings on it. It looked fabulous. Dangerously so.

"I told you. The fund raiser for the Children's Hospital's new wing is today."

"What does that have to do with how you're dressed? Why do you need to be half naked?"

"I am not! Everything important is covered!" She shouted indignantly.

"Not by half! What, are you one of the prizes?" he sneered.

"Don't be absurd! I'm helping with the dunking booth. There's going to be lots of water everywhere."

"How do you expect anyone to hit a target if you're standing there looking like that?"

"Whatever makes more money," She shrugged. The movement caused her breasts to bounce slightly.

She tried to leave. He grabbed her elbow again. He gritted his teeth. "If you're going out like that, you're taking me with you."

"What? I will not!"

"Your decision. Either you put on more clothes, or you take me with you." The determination on his face was clear. She wasn't going to be able to talk him out of this in a hurry, and she didn't have time for a prolonged argument. Instead, she tried deception. 

"Fine. Go change your clothes, then. If I have to take you with me, you have to look normal."

He stared into her eyes for a moment, then said, "Oh, no. You're coming up with me. I'm not going to leave you here while I change. You'll disappear. I don't feel like tracking you down."

She glared at him. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yes, you do. Now tell me what I have to wear to be 'normal.'" Bulma rolled her eyes and followed him up the stairs. When they got to his room, she began digging through his closet. She had bought him clothing partly because she wanted him to have something decent to wear if she ever had to go out in public with him, and partly because it amused her to see the sneers he made when she showed him what she'd bought. 

Vegeta stood watching her, arms crossed. She turned and looked at him thoughtfully for a moment. Then she stared back into the closet. Finally she seemed to have made a decision. She laid out her choices on his bed, then bent down to hunt for his shoes. 

As he changed into the jeans she had set out, he watched her behind as she leaned forward on her knees reaching for something in the back of the closet. Again he felt incensed that she planned to go out in front of countless other males dressed like that. He knew that plenty of men didn't bother to try to control themselves around an attractive woman. Thinking of all the hands that would try to touch that delightful ass that she was currently sticking up in the air made him want to bite something. 

"Ah ha!" She sat back and smiled triumphantly. She had located the shoebox she wanted. She turned to look at him and smiled approvingly. "I had trouble deciding between the blue shirt and the black shirt, but I definitely think blue is the best choice for today." She stood up and approached him. "Hmmm." She tugged gently on the shirt. "It's almost too small. But, it'll be fine. Here. Put on these shoes." She indicated the box on the floor. 

Vegeta opened the box and pulled out a pair of white shoes in a highly unfamiliar style. He picked up one of them and looked it over in puzzlement. It had strings on it, and the top was open. "Woman,"

Bulma came out of the bathroom where she had been adjusting her hair in the mirror. "Ready?" she asked.

In reply, he held up the shoe. 

"Put it on," she said impatiently.

"How?" he was irritated. "What are these strings for? I've never seen this kind of shoe."

Bulma rolled her eyes. The shoes were new, and hadn't been laced yet. She knelt on the floor beside his feet and began lacing up one shoe. His eyes followed the movements of her fingers as she deftly slid the laces through the holes. He looked at the shoe in his hand and pulled the lace out of it. Trying to remember how she'd started, he glanced back at her shoe. She was done. She took the shoe out of his hand and handed him the one she'd laced. Now it looked more like a shoe. He picked up his foot and slipped it in. But the shoe was much too loose. He was sure it would fall off if he took a single step. And those long strings dangling from it just begged to be stepped on. 

Bulma handed him the other shoe. He put it on also. Then he scowled at her, "These are the stupidest shoes I've ever seen. They don't even fit right. And what is the point of these strings?"

She looked up at him in astonishment. "You don't know how to tie your own shoes?" She blinked several times. "And you say humans are stupid."

His face grew dark with anger. He wasn't sure what she was talking about, but clearly she had insulted his intelligence. "If you would dress decently this wouldn't be an issue," he reminded her sharply. If he hadn't been so annoyed with her, he would have really enjoyed the view down the front of her bikini top. 

She rolled her eyes again. "Will you shut up about my clothes! Give me your foot." She grabbed his ankle and set his foot on her knee. "For crying out loud," she muttered, "human kids learn how to tie their shoes before they even start school." She skillfully began tugging on the laces to tighten them. Then she crossed the two strings, and made some rapid finger movements. "There. Give me your other foot." Vegeta tried to watch what she did with that shoe, but she moved too fast for him to learn it. "Finished," she said as she smacked the side of his foot. "Next time you tie your own shoes."

"There won't be a next time. I'm never wearing these again," he retorted.

"Whatever. Can we leave now? I'm late because of you." She fidgeted, waiting for him to stand up. 

He stared at the shoes in outrage. "Are you trying to be funny, woman?" he shouted.

"What are you talking about?" Bulma stared at him, totally bewildered.

"You made little bows!" His face twisted in disgust.

She looked down at his shoes. "Those?" she indicated his now-tied laces.

"Yes, those." He was furious. "What are you playing at?"

She looked at his face to see if he was serious. "You're mad because I tied your shoe laces in a bow?" When he nodded she pointed at her own shoes, and in a voice like the kind used to explain something to an unreasonable small child, she said, "Vegeta, that's how you tie shoes."

"What?" he didn't believe her. 

"Just come on." She had lost all patience with him. "When we get there you'll see. Everyone's shoes are tied like that." She left the room. 

He sat in the passenger seat of the car surreptitiously eyeing his shoes. They felt a little strange to walk in, but they weren't uncomfortable. This business of 'tying' had him irritated. He thought the bow looked ridiculous. He had decided that he would look at other shoes when they arrived, and if she was lying, he would go barefoot. That would make her mad, which he thought was only fair, if she was making a fool of him. He was also irritated that he didn't know how to tie them, since tying shoes was obviously a skill humans considered to be as basic as dressing oneself. When they arrived, Vegeta was still trying to decide whether he would refuse to wear tying shoes ever again, or insist that she teach him how it was done.

Bulma hopped out of the car and headed rapidly toward a knot of other women. Vegeta followed behind in a slower fashion, looking around at all the activity, and paying special attention to everyone's shoelaces. He realized that Bulma had told the truth; everyone who had stringed shoes had them tied like his. 

Vegeta felt a bit better about Bulma's choice of attire when he saw that the other women she was with were dressed similarly. Except, two of them wore tops that barely revealed any cleavage at all. Another woman's top showed some cleavage, but not much. Only the fourth girl's top was as revealing as Bulma's. His eyes narrowed in displeasure. He decided he'd keep a close eye on her.

"Just stay out of the way, and **please** try to behave yourself," she ordered him. He leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in that comfortingly familiar way he preferred. His eyes followed the movements of various people doing all kinds of stupid things. Periodically he would look over at Bulma to make sure she wasn't doing anything to invite roaming hands. She and her group of co-workers from Capsule Corp. were safely occupied with something that didn't involve interaction with the crowd.

Some distance away from Vegeta, Bulma and four other women were counting out tickets in bundles of tens. Their shift with the dunking booth began in half an hour. 

"Bulma, who is that guy you brought with you?" Kimi asked curiously.

"Yeah, is he your boyfriend?" Mariko chimed in. 

Bulma snorted, "Hell, no. He'd make a horrible boyfriend."

"Then who is he?" Kimi repeated.

Midori butted in, "If he's not yours, can I have him?"

Bulma answered, "He's a guest staying at our house." She ignored Midori's question.

Hanako said, "A guest, huh? I wish my parents had guests that looked that good."

"No kidding," Midori agreed enthusiastically. Mariko and Kimi giggled.

Bulma just shook her head and smiled.

"Will you introduce us to him later?" Midori queried. 

"You don't want me to do that," Bulma said. "A dead skunk has better manners."

"If he's so rude, then why'd you bring him with you?" Kimi wanted to know.

"No choice. He insisted." Bulma scowled. "I'll be happy if he just keeps his mouth shut."

"Is he really that bad?" Hanako asked wistfully.

Bulma looked her in the eye. "You have no idea."

"But he's so unbelievably hot!" Midori protested.

"Yeah, you can see his muscles through his shirt," Mariko added.

"How long has he been staying with you, Bulma?" inquired Kimi.

"Several months now." Bulma picked up a stack of ticket bundles.

"Wow! That long," Midori commented. "Ooh, have you ever seen him with his shirt off?"

"Yeah," Bulma answered absently. She was concentrating on making an accurate count.

"Oh," Hanako whined. "I'm so jealous!"

Bulma laughed. Their admiration of Vegeta was amusing, considering how shocked they would be if they knew what he was like.

"Well, I wouldn't throw him out of my bed for eating crackers," Midori commented.

"Yeah, you'd love to get your hands on his ass, wouldn't you, Midori?" teased Mariko. 

Midori laughed, "And I wouldn't stop with his ass!" All the girls laughed. 

Bulma glanced over at Vegeta. He was staring straight ahead, as if the cluster of girls didn't exist. 

"Just let me know when you're through with him, Bulma. I'll **gladly** take him off your hands." Hanako joked. 

Bulma wasn't completely positive, but it looked to her like Vegeta was blushing.

Kimi giggled, "I think you'd have to fight Midori for him, Hanako." 

"Damn straight!" Midori declared with a grin.

Bulma tried to smother a laugh.

"What's so funny?" asked Mariko.

Bulma fought harder to keep her giggles under control. "You guys are going to die when I tell you," she snickered.

"What?" Hanako was confused.

"Look at him," Bulma began. "He's heard every word you've been saying." She lost control of her laughter.

Her four companions turned as one to look at the victim of their comments. Mariko protested, "You're kidding! He's too far away. There's no way he could have heard all that."

Bulma burst into another fit of giggles. "He has very good hearing." Then, in the same volume they had been conversing in she said, "Don't you, Vegeta?"

He turned his head, and gave her a very hard look. Then he went back to ignoring them. 

"See. I told you." Bulma laughed and laughed. 

"Oh, how embarrassing," Mariko muttered, covering her cheeks with her hands. 

"You made him blush, Midori." Kimi teased. "You're so bad. Talking about his ass like that!"

Midori shrugged. 

Hanako said, "Damn, Bulma. If you knew he could hear us, why didn't you tell us to shut up?"

"I didn't know." Bulma was still laughing. "I didn't think about it. I didn't know until I saw his face."

"That was one hell of a scowl," Mariko observed in a much quieter voice. "Did we make him that mad?"

"No," Bulma replied calmly. "He was already mad about his shoes."

"What's wrong with his shoes?" Kimi wanted to know.

"Nothing." Bulma answered. "He just doesn't like them." She decided that telling the girls that Vegeta was angry because he didn't know how to tie his shoes would involve too much explaining. She shrugged. "I already told you he was a grouch."

"That's a shame," Midori shook her head. "Such an attractive man could have women all over him."

Bulma snorted in reply. She found she didn't really care for that idea. 

A man in a Capsule Corp. t-shirt came over to the group. "Okay, ladies. It's your turn now."

Vegeta watched from his new vantage point. He had found an unobtrusive spot where he could watch the goings-on at the dunking booth and still be near enough to intervene if anyone got too friendly. 

One girl helped people get in and out of the booth. Two others were trying to persuade the people passing by to try their throwing skills. The fourth one was selling tickets, while Bulma was handing out the baseballs and counting the throws.

They had a steady stream of customers for awhile. After a time there came a lag, and the girl taking tickets convinced Bulma to trade stations with her. That wasn't a problem until a group of five young men wanted to buy tickets. They argued amongst themselves which one of them would go into the booth for the others to try to dunk. 

"What do you think, Cutie?" one of them asked Bulma. "Which one of us should be the victim?"

"Yeah," another added with a big grin. "Which of us would you like to see all wet?" 

Bulma pretended to be coy, and allowed them to flirt with her. She smiled and giggled, and eventually persuaded them to all take a turn. "I don't know how I'm supposed to pick just one of you," she laughed. She looked like she was having a wonderful time enjoying their attention. Vegeta wanted to blast them. Stupid fools.

As the group of now-dripping young men left the dunking booth area, one of them stopped next to Bulma and said something to her. She smiled up at him and he touched her arm briefly before he turned to walk away. Vegeta's eyes narrowed in fury. As if she felt his eyes on her, she turned to look him straight in the eye. She shook her head, clearly telling him not to do anything. Then she turned back to her ticket selling. He growled.

After awhile, the pair of girls calling attention to the booth felt that they had drawn enough people for the time being, and came back to help the other girls. One of them kept looking over in his direction. He steadfastly ignored her. 

Later Bulma and another girl decided to go out and corral more people. Vegeta moved again, keeping the blue haired girl in sight. She and her friend were shouting about the booth to anyone who would listen. A number of young men stopped merely for the chance to talk to two attractive girls. Bulma flirted outrageously. Young man or old, it didn't seem to matter. She seemed determined to pull in as many people as she could. Vegeta dimly noticed that the other girl was almost as bad as Bulma, but that fact didn't interest him. He wondered how much longer this was going to go on. Bulma smiled and giggled, touched men's arms, made adorable pouty faces when they tried to tell her no, did strange things with her eyelashes, and even leaned forward once to give one particularly handsome young man a better view of her attributes. 

Finally, Vegeta had had enough. He stalked over to Bulma and grabbed her arm. She looked at him in surprise. He pulled her some distance away from the other girl, then turned and leveled an intense glare at her.

"What is your problem?" she asked. "I'm busy right now."

He grabbed her upper arms and said in a quiet but deadly serious voice, "Woman, you are pushing my patience to the limit."

"What are…" she began.

He cut her off, "Understand me: if any man lays a hand on you, I'll kill him. So, you watch yourself." He released her and turned to walk back to his spot. He hadn't gotten far when she shouted at him.

"You'll what?! What gives you the right to talk to me like that?" Her volume and obvious rage were attracting attention from passers-by. 

Vegeta whirled around and stared at her like she'd lost her mind. "What gives me the right? **You** did!" He shouted just as loudly as she did. 

Bulma took a deep breath, preparing to insist he get his head examined, and realized how many people were staring at them. She stomped towards a passageway near the back of the building next to the dunking booth. As she passed Vegeta she muttered, "This way." He followed her around the building. It was relatively quiet back there, and no one seemed to be around. Then she turned on him and angrily demanded an explanation. "What the hell are you talking about? When did I **ever** say you could talk to me like that?"

He countered with another question, "How many times have you taken me into your bed, woman?"

"I don't know." She squirmed. "What, do you think I keep count?"

"As long as you continue to do that, you are **my** woman." He was just as angry as she was. "And I don't share!" he roared.

She gaped at him. "Is **that** what this is about?" Then she bristled, "You don't own me!"

"I never said I did!" 

"Yes, you did! I'm not some **thing**!"

"I never said you were!" He didn't understand the source of her anger. "There is a clear difference between slavery and monogamy!"

She looked stunned. "Muh…" she started, then stopped. "But…" she tried again. Her face reflected confusion and annoyance. "But I didn't do anything!" she protested.

His anger returned in a hurry. "What was all that carrying on out there with every fool who looked at you?" he demanded. 

"That? That was nothing." She shrugged. "I was just attracting customers."

He grabbed her arms again and pinned her against the wall. He leaned towards her until their noses almost touched. He growled, "It wasn't 'nothing' to them, and it isn't 'nothing' to me."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "Fine."

"What's fine?" he asked suspiciously.

She scowled. "Fine, I won't do it anymore. Now will you let go? If you leave any marks on my arms I'm going to be mad."

He released her arms, but didn't back away. She inspected her arms; they were a little red, but she didn't think there would be any bruising. Speculatively, she gazed into his eyes. What she read there made her smile mischievously. Sliding her arms around his neck, she said, "After an argument, it's customary to kiss and make up."

One eyebrow quirked upwards. "Is that an invitation?"

"Maybe," she whispered. She brought her head forward to kiss him. He met her halfway. Vegeta put his arms around her and held her tightly against him. Any residual anger or frustration he felt faded away to be replaced with satisfaction. 

When he finally released her lips he huskily suggested that they go home. 

Bulma thought about it and disappointment made her frown. "I can't. Not yet. I promised I'd be here. I've been missing long enough already." She twisted her wrist so see the dial on her watch. "I don't have to stay that much longer."

He growled and didn't let go. She harmlessly struck his chest with her fist. "Let go of me! I want to go home, too, but you're just going to have to wait." Reluctantly, he loosened his arms and watched her walk back towards the dunking booth. He waited a few moments before following her. Vegeta was pleased to discover that these blue jeans she'd had him wear hid his inevitable reaction to her kisses much better than his training clothes. 

Vegeta heard someone's footsteps approach him. He could tell by her smell that the person was a woman. Continuing to stare straight ahead, he hoped she would go away and leave him alone. Then she spoke. He recognized the voice as coming from the girl who had made most of the really embarrassing remarks about him.

"This must be really boring for you," she said.

His reply was a grunt.

Undeterred by his lack of enthusiasm, she spoke again. "My name is Midori. The other girls asked Bulma to introduce you to us, but she said no. She said you aren't very friendly."

Vegeta made no response. 

"Sometimes people can seem unfriendly, when really they're just shy," Midori continued. "I decided I wanted to see if you really were horrible, or if Bulma just made that up so she could keep you to herself."

Without turning his head, Vegeta cut his eyes over to the side to look at the girl. 

"Besides, Bulma's the jealous type. I wanted to see if she'd care if I spoke to you." The girl giggled.

Vegeta looked ahead again. Bulma was laughing at something one of the other women said. The pesky woman was still standing near him. He wished she would go; he had no interest in her babble. 

"What do you think?" she asked him. "Do you think she'll care?"

"Get lost," he growled at her.

She laughed again. "So you **do** talk!" Then she hissed, "See, what did I tell you! She saw you speak to me." The girl covered her mouth to hide her giggles. 

Vegeta looked towards Bulma. He recognized the look on her face. He'd caused it plenty of times. She was annoyed about something.

"Oh, this is too funny!" The woman beside him laughed again. Then she leaned in towards him. She wasn't touching him, but she was definitely closer than he wanted. With her eyes still on Vegeta and a big smile on her face, the woman asked, "What's she doing now?"

Vegeta frowned at Midori. Then he asked her harshly, "Woman, what are you doing?"

"Being a bitch," she informed him with a toothy grin. 

Vegeta didn't know what to make of this strange person. She was behaving in a most bizarre manner. Whatever her point was, he wasn't interested. He was about to walk away when Bulma stepped in front of him. The blue haired woman had a smile on her face, but it wasn't a nice one. 

"Oh, hello, Bulma!" Midori gushed. "I decided to introduce myself to your friend. He isn't *near* as awful as you said he was." Then she turned and walked away. 

Bulma's narrowed eyes followed the other woman's retreat. Then she turned those eyes on Vegeta. She was mad about something. Without saying anything, Bulma turned and went back to the booth. 

Vegeta watched her walk away and wondered if that annoying woman was right about Bulma being jealous. He hadn't stopped to think about such a thing before. 

When Bulma and Vegeta got in the car to drive home, Vegeta pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket and offered it to her. "Why did that obnoxious woman give me this? What is it?"

Bulma slid the key into the ignition and took the paper from his hand. He watched her scowl, then wad it up and toss it in the back seat. She started the car and began to drive. 

"Well, what was it?" he insistently repeated.

He saw her jaw muscles clench. "She gave you her phone number."

"Phone number? What is that? Why would I want it?" he asked.

Still scowling, Bulma informed him, "You've seen me use the phone. Every place with a phone has it's own unique phone number. If, for some reason, you wanted to talk to Goku, you could dial his number on the phone. If he was home, he would answer the phone. You could talk to him without having to go see him in person." 

Vegeta waited for her to continue. When she didn't, he reminded her, "You still haven't told me why she gave it to me."

"Obviously, she wants you to call her on the phone." She coldly replied.

Vegeta was puzzled. "Why in hell would I want to do that?"

His clear disinterest in making such an overture mollified Bulma somewhat. In a more normal tone she explained, "It's a human courtship thing. She gave you her phone number to indicate that she likes you, and would like to go on a date with you."

"What?" He sounded surprised and repulsed.

Bulma was pleased with his reaction. She glanced over at him, and laughed at the expression on his face. 

"What is this obsession you women have with dates?" he grumbled.

"That's how it works." Bulma shrugged. 

"Hmmph. Strange behavior," he stated. 

"Well, how is it done where you're from?" Bulma asked.

"How is what done?"

"Surely there is some kind of courting method," she insisted. "Or do Saiyan men just pick a woman and that's the end of it?" she asked sourly.

"No," he frowned at her. "That's not how it's done."

They had reached Capsule Corp. They got out of the car and Bulma re-encapsulated it. "Well, how then?" she asked.

"Ask me some other time," he replied as he followed her into the house. "How do these shoes come off?"

"Just pull on the end of the shoelace. That unties it." Bulma went into the kitchen looking for her mother. There was a note on the table saying that Mr. and Mrs. Briefs had gone out for the evening and didn't expect to be back til late. A shoeless Vegeta followed her into the kitchen. He turned the chair away from the table and sat down.

"Give me your foot," he said.

"Why?" Bulma asked as she lifted her foot off the ground.

"I want to look at it," Vegeta told her as he grasped her ankle. He investigated how her shoes were laced and tied. He looked up at her and tapped the top of her shoe. "Teach me how to do this."

"Now?" she asked.

"No. Not now. Later." He pulled on her leg to bring her closer to him.

"Let go of my leg. You're going to make me fall!" she cried.

"Come here, then," he said as he released her leg.

"Why?" She stopped in front of him.

"You talk too much." He grasped her wrists and pulled, causing her to bend at the waist. When her face was close enough, he tilted his head back and captured her mouth with his own. Without breaking the kiss, she sat on his lap, facing him. She pulled her hands free and put them on either side of his face. He stroked her legs, one on each side of him, feeling how soft and smooth her skin was. 

He rubbed his face along the edge of her bikini top, occasionally leaving kisses in his path. His hands rubbed her legs and her behind. Her hands held tightly to his shoulders as she leaned backwards. He wrapped one arm around her waist, and buried his face between her breasts. The heat of his mouth was maddening, even though he hadn't actually touched anywhere especially sensitive. She was going crazy with suspense, wondering when he was finally going to tear her top off. And still, he delayed, kissing and licking the skin just outside of the swimsuit. She got to where she wanted his hands on her breasts so much that she was about to grab his wrists and simply PUT them there, when he slid a finger and thumb under the spandex cloth and removed her breast from the confines of her clothing. The sound she made when he put his mouth on her nipple was almost a shout. Bulma heard him chuckle at her reaction. Then she stopped thinking about anything but his tongue. She tasted slightly salty, though whether from her earlier efforts to draw a crowd or from her current activity, he couldn't tell.

He pulled her arms til she sat up straight and he could kiss her lips. Her lips hungrily covered his, eagerly telling him how much she desired him. Her hands made their way under his shirt, rubbing his chest, reveling in the texture of his skin. The fingers of both hands found his nipples and began stroking them in a circular fashion, causing him to moan even while kissing her. When, gauging by the ardor in his kisses, she felt she had fired him up sufficiently, she slipped his shirt up over his head and dropped it on the floor beside their chair. Then she leaned in and began kissing his neck and shoulder. He was enjoying it; she could tell by the way his fingers would stop stroking her back and dig in for a moment. She decided, just for the hell of it, to be a bit rougher with her kisses. This resulted in several bright red marks – telltale signs that Vegeta had been involved in amorous activity. Giggling, she made sure to leave one high enough on his neck that his clothing wouldn't hide it. 

"What are you laughing at, woman?" Vegeta asked her in a vague sort of voice.

"Nothing," she lied. "I'm just having fun."

He grunted in reply. She let her hands glide over his chest, lower and lower until she came to his waist. Slipping one hand between their bodies, she could feel the hard solidness of his arousal through his jeans. She gave it an experimental squeeze, just to see how he would react. He took in a sudden deep breath, then pushed his hips against her hand as if to ask for more of the same. She giggled again, and gave him another squeeze. Continuing to laugh, she unbuttoned his pants and began to slowly unzip them. With the thick denim pushed aside, she was much better able to feel him. She gently slid her fingers up and down the length of him, provoking delightful sensations occasionally punctuated by a gentle squeeze. 

His hands had been rubbing her back. They paused at the fastening of her bikini top and he fumbled with it. It didn't close like her bras did, and in his diminished capacity he was unable to figure out how to remove it. "If you don't get rid of this, I'm going to rip it off you," he warned her testily.

"No!" she protested, instantly removing her hands from his crotch. "Don't you dare! This is my favorite bikini!" She reached behind herself and unfastened the back clasp, then reached up under her hair to untie the neck strap. The top fell to her lap. Vegeta negligently brushed it off onto the floor to join his shirt. His hands came up to cup her breasts; hers slipped down his back to squeeze his ass. Their eyes met for a moment; black piercing blue. The intensity of his stare was too much for Bulma; she felt adrenaline butterflies in her stomach. She dropped her eyes to his lips and hungrily returned to kissing them. 

They pressed against each other, reveling in the sensation of skin on skin. As their tongues twined together their hands touched and stroked, stoking the fire that burned between them. Bulma broke this kiss and turned her head to lick his ear. In a husky almost-whisper she murmured, "I want you."

Vegeta knew she did; any fool could see that. But hearing the words sent a pleasant jolt through him causing him to clutch her tighter. She continued running her tongue up the outer edge of his ear, then back down to his earlobe, which she would gently bite and tug on. Her heavy breathing caused her chest to rise and fall; he enjoyed the feel of her breasts brushing against his chest. 

She stood up and he pulled her shorts off her hips. They fell to the floor. Then he pulled off the bottom to her swimsuit. She pulled him to his feet and pushed on the waist of his jeans. They slid down his legs to the floor. He stepped out of them and kicked them to the side. She slipped her hands around behind him and down his boxers to feel his bare ass. He pressed against her, as if to tell her to hurry up and get rid of the intervening fabric. So she did. Then he sat back down in the chair and pulled her towards him. She straddled his legs. When she felt his tip at her entrance, she pushed down, enveloping him in her warm, moist body. He sighed deeply and held her tightly against his chest. Bulma's didn't reach the floor while sitting in such a manner, so she used the back legs of the chair to push her feet against. 

Bulma closed her eyes and began to push off the chair. Her hands tightly clasped his shoulders. His hands on her hips pulled her back towards him. Alternately pushing and pulling, hips rocking, they created a rhythm that started them on the road to ecstasy. As the pleasure in their loins increased, Bulma began to moan. If she had opened her eyes, she would have seen her partner grinning and watching her avidly. The grin faded as his mind became more and more caught up in the feelings they were generating in his body. Soon, all he knew was the urgency of need. Her cries became louder and less coherent. Vegeta dimly realized that another voice had joined hers, and the voice was his own. He had a vague idea that something about that was different, but didn't bother to pursue it; all he was interested in was the feeling. 

Bulma cried out, "Ohhh!" Vegeta knew she'd hit her peak. "Ohhh! Vegeta!" she shouted. "VEGETA!"

And then it was his turn. He pushed into her one final time and arched his back. Bulma was pleasantly amused to hear his barely stifled groans; he usually tried to keep quiet. This time he was anything but.

She collapsed against him and laid her head on his shoulder. They were both slick with sweat and breathing as if they'd been running a marathon. 

Bulma's eyes popped open in surprise when she heard him mutter, "Beautiful. So beautiful." His arms tightened around her back. Vegeta allowed his head to lean to the side against her neck 

And so they sat, for awhile, resting. Bulma was a bit surprised to at how peaceful and safe she felt held in the arms of a known killer. She had the momentary thought that maybe it was **because** she knew he was a murderer that she felt safe; she knew what lengths he would go to to fight for something, and, at least for a little while, she had value to him. Granted, that value was merely as a sexual partner, but then, she reminded herself, that was exactly what they were. 

Gradually Bulma began to realize that they were sticky with sweat. "Yuck. I'm all sweaty," she said as she pulled her chest off of his. "I'm going to go swimming. Do you want to come with me?" she asked, surprising herself. Why did I ask that?

His eyes bored into hers. "You don't have to. I just thought I'd ask," she told him when he made no answer. She pushed herself off of his lap. "Better get these clothes out of here before my parents get home," she said to herself. 

Vegeta had totally forgotten about them. "Where **are** your parents?" he asked her. 

She indicated the note on the table. "They went out. Won't be home til late." She scooped up the clothing and left the room. After a few minutes, Vegeta stood up and pushed the chair back under the table. He cast an eye around the kitchen for anything that might indicate what had gone on in that room, and seeing nothing, decided to follow the woman. 

She had dumped their clothing in a ball in a chair by the hot tub and gotten in. He stood at the edge and looked down at her. "I thought you said you were going to go swimming. That's just soaking."

She shrugged. "The term 'swimming' covers many things," she replied as he stuck one foot in to test the water temperature. "Technically this is called skinny dipping."

"This little pool?" he asked skeptically. He put his other foot in the water.

"No," she laughed. "Swimming without any clothes. This is a hot tub." She watched him feeling the water with his feet. "Are you coming in or not?"

He grumbled. "I suppose."

****

A/N: These stories come from random ideas that pop into my head. I'd like to know if readers think these ideas are worth sharing, or should I keep them to myself?


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